


The Adventure Of The Mystery Of Rose Lodge

by graestu



Category: Miss Marple (TV), Miss Marple - Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graestu/pseuds/graestu
Summary: A singular case for Mr Sherlock Holmes and his 12 year old apprentice Miss Jane Marple.
Kudos: 1





	The Adventure Of The Mystery Of Rose Lodge

Mr Sherlock Holmes and his 12 year old apprentice Miss Jane Marple had been searching through all his medical notes and files without success. They began to tidy up, with just one final option before their visitor arrived. An option they knew would be successful in providing the information.

The door to the study opened, and without looking up, Holmes called out.

"Watson! What do you know about Pondicherry Spleen Fever?"

Doctor Watson came to an abrupt halt as he removed his hat and allowed himself a brief indulgent smile.

He knew something his colleague did not!

"It's such a rare disease," he said, as he turned from the hat stand, "that it has been estimated that a million doctors might only see one case between them during their entire working careers. If they've even heard of it."

There was more. And puffed up ready for some awed admiration, he proudly added, "I had a patient with it yesterday!"

Holmes asked, "This ex-actress patient of yours. Did she say if her late archaeologist husband Jack had travelled extensively to the Indian subcontinent?"

"He hadn't. Egypt was his speciality. How the Devil..?"

A knock on the door as the clock chimed three, received Holmes's heartiest welcome.

"Do come in, Lady Susannah!"

Lady Susannah D'ortrinlore (no relation), a greying woman in her late fifties made a grand entrance. She had a warm nod of recognition for Dr Watson.

After their introductions, she began her story, rather reluctantly. It suddenly seemed a bit trivial.

"It was after yesterday's consultation that I remembered your association with Mr Holmes, Doctor. And this minor troubling matter at home."

Holmes was holding her letter setting out the case, but wanted to hear the details.

"You see - and I haven't told anyone about this - I have the impression that someone has been attempting to open my safe."

"You were wise to keep it to yourself," said Holmes. "Go ahead," he encouraged her.

He twiddled his fingers at Jane to make sure she was taking notes, and settled back in his chair with his eyes closed.

"It started - quite by coincidence, I'm sure - four Saturdays ago, during my first bout of Pondicherry Spleen Fever. Later officially diagnosed by my family doctor. Ghastly young man." She looked to Dr Watson for confirmation.

He nodded in agreement. Then had to explain he was endorsing the doctor's decision, rather than Lady Susannah's judgment of his character.

"What is the nature of this illness?" Holmes had been wanting to know.

Sidetracked from discussing the crime she wished to report, Lady Susannah tried to be as concise as possible, and get back to the subject.

"24 hours of bed ridden delirium. And it happens at the same time every week."

"Continue."

"Luckily, Mr Aitken is always there. For our regular bridge game. A head in the clouds sort of drip, but a first class botanist who leads his own team at the local university. He knew the only treatment was to eat a particular leaf from his laboratory, and quickly fetched one. It cleared the symptoms in 24 hours. Much longer, and it's fatal."

"And the other two players?"

Again, Lady Susannah thought it irrelevant, and said, "Teddy Loveday, a morose so and so; and his vulgar sister."

"Was anyone else present?"

"Three of my four members of staff. Not the part time gardener, but the butler, the cook, and my new overworked maid - she's been with me about a month - who helps the others however and whenever required."

"Have you any family?"

Lady Susannah paused.

The others knew what was coming next. Holmes opened a weary eye to give a knowing look of expectation to Watson and Jane.

Lady Susannah regarded Jane wistfully for a moment.

It was a too frequent occurrence for a Victorian orphan of unspecified origins. Someone was always saying, 'I had a daughter once. She'd be about your age now,' as they rubbed their chin thoughtfully.

Lady Susannah spoke with a flat tone. "I had a daughter once."

Holmes, Watson and Jane exchanged a tiny secret smile.

"She'd be about your height now."

They all blinked back to life, requiring an explanation.

"Yes. She stopped growing when she was about 12. So I sent her away and haven't seen her since."

Then, without missing a beat, she invited Holmes to her house on Friday morning to examine the safe, and, if in the unlikely event he was bothered, observe the weekend bridge game, in case her illness returned.

As long as he could bring Jane, he accepted.

Lady Susannah shrugged as she left, saying, "I don't suppose I'd even recognise her now that she's in her mid to late twenties. Beautiful, blonde, with noticeably nice teeth. I wonder what did happen to Alice."

"My name is Celia! And I am f-from Abergavenny!"

Lady Susannah's maid met Holmes and Jane at the gate of Rose Lodge, which was a short walk from the Cunningham Regis station. She was excited to welcome such an illustrious guest. She was plain, with unlikely black hair, and noticeably horrible buck teeth. She grabbed their luggage and hurried inside as Lady Susannah appeared in the doorway.

Jane was staring, stunned. Rose Lodge was absolutely covered with the biggest, brightest red roses in full bloom. She had never seen a display like it, and was quick to compliment Lady Susannah on the amazing sight.

She dismissed the comments as briskly as she had dismissed Celia.

"They were my late husband Jack's interest, not mine. I could never see the attraction. Now they're Cook's pride and joy. I'll be cutting them all down soon."

Jane twitched slightly, hoping not to give away that she had heard something odd. She wondered if Holmes had spotted it.

Holmes was giving a shifty sideways glance, to see if Jane had reacted, and wondered the same about her.

While Celia disappeared upstairs, Lady Susannah tried to usher Holmes and Jane inside, but he held back for a moment, listening to the gardener whistling. A rough looking man came round the corner of the house, and spotting Holmes, darted back out of sight. He hoped he hadn't been recognised, and kicked himself for whistling the instantly familiar Dartmoor Prison Old Boys' Choir Theme Tune.

In the study, Lady Susannah was eager that they start their investigations at the scene of the suspected crime. She closed the door to keep prying eyes and ears out.

A big desk, with many silver framed photographs of the family in happier times, dominated the room.

Behind it, on the wall, an oil painting of The Pyramids.

Lady Susannah swung it on a hinge to reveal the eye level safe.

Holmes waved towards the carpet, where Jane was to crawl around looking for clues, while he used his magnifying glass to examine the scratches around the lock on the safe.

"There have been slightly more scratches each week," said Lady Susannah, who had her own theory. "Like someone using a pen knife to reach the mechanism."

"Which is a very sophisticated combination lock," Holmes pointed out.

"Yes. The safe-monger promised my late husband Jack that each of those five numbers would take almost a day to crack."

Holmes dropped to the floor to join Jane.

She had found two suspicious indentations in the carpet. As she moved to look at them from a different angle, she noticed something glinting underneath the desk. She could just reach, and pulled out a small silver pen knife. It was engraved with a local view, and a monogram, _EL ._ She passed it to Homes, who concealed it in his pocket as he straightened up.

"What is in the safe, may I ask, Lady Susannah?"

"Family documents. Oh, and a substantial sum of money. And... yes... a priceless unique Ancient Egyptian pen knife from one of my late husband Jack's expeditions. But it's cursed. Which is why it must stay locked up in its case forever."

"And who knows about this?"

"It's not a secret. But Teddy Loveday is especially interested. He's a world renowned antique pen knife expert, and would love to add it to his collection."

Lady Susannah decided that the meeting had concluded, saying, "Lunchtime, soon, I think." And rang the bell.

Holmes had a request.

"I'd like you to give me a minute by minute schedule of events surrounding the evening and your illness. You say it's the same pattern every week?"

"Precisely."

"And are you quite well at the moment, ma'am?" asked Jane.

"Why, yes, dear. There is nothing wrong with my health at all, apart from these weekly turns. Otherwise, I'm as fit as a flea the rest of the time."

She took a small box from her pocket and rattled it. Quickly flashing it open so only Holmes could see, she added, "My daily little green heart pill sees to that!"

The butler arrived, and was instructed to take Holmes and Jane to their rooms.

"Did naebody tell ye it's rude to stare?" he hissed at Jane, when he caught her looking at his false thumb. Then, defiantly, he pushed it at her face, growling, "Look at it, lassie. I lost my real thumb in the Glasgow Shipyards. They play a mean game of dominoes up there, and no mistake. This? This, by the way? This Swiss Army Thumb - it's got wee scissors, a hole punch, a thing for taking stones out of horses' hooves, a pen knife blade. And it cost a substantial sum of money. I'll never be able to pay it back if I live to be a thousand, and the gang of dodgy medics are after me, the murdering swines that they are!"

Holmes popped in to Jane's room after lunch, and told her, "I'm going for a walk around the town."

Jane reached for her coat, but he gently placed his finger on her nose.

"You, Miss Marple, have got work to do. I want all the case notes written up when I get back."

Jane sighed. "I thought I was your apprentice. Not Dr Watson's."

"Until you find your own Watson to write up your adventures..."

He gripped the top of her head with his fingertips, and turned it slowly to direct her to the desk in the corner of the room.

"And then, when you've done that..."

"Another chore. When I want to be a detective."

"...I want you to go to the kitchen and find out as much as you can about the staff."

Jane's eyes lit up.

She couldn't wait to get started on the report, as Holmes flounced out with a "Ha!"

"I'm bored!" said Jane, slumping into a wooden chair. She slammed her elbows on the kitchen table, rested her chin in her hands, and stared blankly.

The chubby cook was puffing away, her cheeks ruddy with the effort of rolling out some pastry. She was gradually getting covered with a light dusting of flour, and Celia was plucking an owl.

"We are making Gwesty Pie! F-for tomorrow!" she announced.

"There's nothing to detect," Jane moaned, emphasizing the point. "Uncle Sherlock's come to see how Lady Susannah is, and I'm only here because it's Bring Your Niece To Work Day."

The cook stopped, mid-roll, and said, dreamily, "I had a niece once. She'd be about your age now." Then, snapping out of it, with a mumbled "If only I had a substantial sum of money..." she lifted the pastry into a ceramic dish.

"You could detect where to is the key f-for the F-French windows!"

"Daft girl. There's never been a key for the 'F-French' windows in all my days."

"But a burguliar could get in!"

"Not if they don't hear about it from you, they couldn't."

Which brought a chilly pause to the proceedings, broken when Jane said, "I like your roses."

"My roses? No, dear, nothing to do with me. I've got my own Indian Herb Garden, but the roses are entirely down to Mr Cook, the gardener." Then, having forgotten her manners, at last introduced herself. "I'm Mrs Butler. This is Celia."

"I am at least twenty f-five years old!"

"And this is Mr Gardner, the butler," Mrs Butler, the cook, added, as he entered through the back door.

"Aye, we've met," he snarled, as Celia passed him the tin of rat poison from the draining board, and he prised the lid off using the screwdriver attachment of his false thumb.

That evening, Holmes and Jane were sitting at the far end of the library, waiting for the guests to arrive.

It was their first chance to properly discuss the case, and Holmes was keen to learn what Jane had made of it so far.

"Somebody is taking advantage of Lady Susannah's illness to try to open the safe," she summed up, as an introduction to her findings from her visit to the kitchen.

Holmes admired her method as she described her afternoon, but winced at, and discouraged her calling him Uncle Sherlock.

"The gardener is called Mr Cook," Jane said, proud of her discovery. "That clears up the odd thing Lady Susannah said about the roses."

"I thought there was something," Holmes admitted, with a wry smile.

Jane enjoyed the moment, and smiled back, knowing she had done well to spot it.

Not only that, it was time to reveal that she had identified a suspect.

"Celia is an anagram of Alice," she said. "She's the right age, she's my height. It's her in a hideous disguise!"

"She's certainly not from Abergavenny," Holmes agreed. "Though she has got the funny teeth right. People from there pronounce it Abergenny."

Again, Jane was pleased with the confirmation, but wondered, "Why would she say she's from Abergavenny?"

"A few years ago, it was one of the most notorious towns in Wales. I was there for a case."

"I've read all your stories in The Strand. I don't remember that one."

"That's Watson being generous. Because the Abergavenny Poisoner was never caught. But if you want a place to pretend to be from, and you've only ever seen it written down..."

"I see."

But now Jane was struck by a new thought, and said, with a hushed shock, "You mean somebody is deliberately making Lady Susannah ill?"

Holmes left the idea to float in the air for Jane to ponder. He could also tell she had another matter on her mind.

She was struggling with doubts about how Celia fitted into the crime, because there was another fact of which she was equally sure.

So, she said, "The cracksman has got two wooden legs. The indentations in the carpet below the safe."

Holmes chuckled.

"And you're not Watson's apprentice, you say?"

The door bell rang, as the first guest had arrived.

Holmes and Jane had a good view of him as he was being greeted at the door by Lady Susannah. He had a mop of unruly curly hair, and round, gold rimmed glasses. They watched his very slow progress through the hall as he approached. He was using two walking sticks. Lady Susannah had the chance to explain that Holmes and Jane were visiting to observe the effect of Pondicherry Spleen Fever - should there be an unlikely recurrence.

"That's the fascinating aspect," said Mr Aitken, after the introductions. He had a light voice that made everything sound as if he thought it was amusing. "A previously unrecorded development. I've been studying the rare Indian plant, the Scarlet Death-By-Abdabs. I'm becoming quite the expert on poisons and antidotes. I mean, illnesses and cures." He laughed off the slip of the tongue. "The powdered petals can cause the symptoms, but the leaf curtails them. Beyond 24 hours, it's fatal."

"And in someone so otherwise healthy," Holmes mused aloud.

The door bell rang again, and Lady Susannah went to welcome her final two guests.

Mr Aitken took this opportunity to confide, "She takes a daily little green heart pill."

He tapped the side of his nose, and with a giggle at how naughty he'd been, headed towards the card table. With a wiggle of one of his sticks, and a glance at his legs, cheerfully added, "There are people worse off."

Jane leaned in with something she urgently wanted to tell Holmes, but he was already distracted by the new arrivals.

A rhythmic knocking was getting louder.

Jane, unable to attract Holmes's attention, looked round and gasped.

"That's Lizzie Loveday!"

The woman was tottering along unsteadily, her arm linked through that of her brother. She had two wooden legs.

"That's Lizzie Loveday!" Jane repeated to Holmes, who was now all ears. "The famous circus escapologist who had to retire after an escape from a lion's cage went half wrong."

Lady Susannah made the introductions.

"The world renowned pen knife expert!" said Holmes.

Flattered, Teddy Loveday mumbled through his drooping moustache that it was a splendid hobby for all the family. His deliberation over choosing his words drained them of any enthusiasm. Lizzie smiled weakly, indulging him.

"Is this yours? We found it here this morning. Perhaps you dropped it on a previous visit?"

Holmes produced the small pen knife Jane had discovered.

"No," he immediately replied, with distaste, needing barely a glimpse at the seaside scene or the _EL_ monogram.

Jane mentally crossed something off her notes. But then had an alternative idea!

Holmes held up a silencing finger.

Lady Susannah clapped briskly three times, as a signal that it was time to start the game.

"Oh. Thank you," she said, as Lizzie handed over a neatly wrapped box.

The Lovedays made their way to join Mr Aitken, and Lady Susannah opened the gift, showing it to Holmes and Jane.

"Do take one," she offered, having already made sure she had picked out the one that was her special favourite. "Lizzie's homemade chocolates."

Jane ticked off another line on her schedule of events.

"They're a little bitter," said Lady Susannah. "But it's the thought that counts."

Holmes and Jane accepted, and Lady Susannah went to begin the game.

Holmes nodded that it was safe, and he and Jane ate their chocolates.

Everything had been exactly as predicted.

And after the first game had taken place without incident, it was Lizzie herself who returned with the box of chocolates for Holmes and Jane.

"Dreadful business, this fever," she said. Her common accent was a family trait that her brother had discarded. Her orange curls framed a slightly overly made up face, and settled on the shoulders of a frilly dress that was fighting a losing battle to contain her.

Everyone was aware that in previous weeks it was during the second game of the evening that Lady Susannah's attacks had happened.

"She looks well enough at the moment," Holmes observed.

"Confidentially," said Lizzie, whispering behind her garishly bejewelled hand, "that's the daily little green heart pills. We're not supposed to know. That's Gardner, the butler, reminding her at the moment.

Across the room, thinking no one was watching, Lady Susannah sneakily gulped down a pill, and returned the silver goblet to the butler's tray.

" _' Water_ ' ," Lizzie said, with a conspiratorial wink. "As the 'grieving' 'widow' used to call it in our Music Hall days." And she tottered back to the card table, smiling.

The tense second bridge game was underway, when, without warning, Lady Susannah let out an agonised choking yell. She clawed at her throat, eyes rolling. Squawking and jerking, she sprawled across the table, sending the cards in all directions, as she convulsed and collapsed.

Mr Aitken assumed control. He flipped open a small case and took out a leaf which he pressed to Lady Susannah's lips. Her jaw was locked and he struggled to feed it to her. With the Lovedays holding her steady, he eventually succeeded. Slowly, Lady Susannah calmed down. Her twitching gradually reduced, but she was still humming and looking around vaguely.

Holmes went to assist, and with Teddy Loveday, helped her to his comfortable seat in the corner, next to Jane.

Lady Susannah was shivering, but a routine had developed over the weeks, and a blanket was quickly found. Celia was sent out to summon the doctor.

"I'll stay here tonight," Holmes told the guests.

They nodded their thanks, agreeing to wait until the doctor had called. They returned to the card table and tidied up.

"That was the most dramatic attack yet," the tearful Lizzie told her brother. He remembered something from the previous occasions, and approached Holmes to whisper a piece of advice for his night time vigil.

"She sleepwalks."

With Holmes and Jane comforting Lady Susannah away from the others, Jane, shaken by the experience, looked to Holmes for some reassurance.

Lady Susannah was breathing fitfully, her eyes flickering in an unfocussed way.

Holmes leaned forward, with a solemn expression, and said quietly, "That all went rather well, I think."

"Why, thank you, Mr Holmes," replied Lady Susannah, proud of her performance, then resuming her drowsy appearance.

It was a performance convincing enough for Doctor De Donnarivalle (pronounced Dead On Arrival).

He checked her eyes and pulse, but could feel Holmes expecting more.

An embarrassed search of his bag led to an apology for forgetting his stethoscope, but he was satisfied with his examination.

He recommended that Lady Susannah should rest, then he went across the room to repeat his findings to her guests, the butler, the cook and Celia.

Holmes followed the scene carefully, while appearing to be only concerned for Lady Susannah's welfare, as he spoke to Jane.

The doctor said his goodbyes, and was shown out.

As the door closed behind him, he let out a shrill whistle.

The door immediately opened.

It was Holmes, inviting him to step back inside.

"I just hailed a cab..." the doctor flustered. There was none to be seen. "It was passing the gate. A touch too late, I'm afraid."

He accepted the request, and rejoined the others.

"I couldn't let you leave without thanking you properly," said Holmes.

The doctor modestly brushed aside his efforts. "Mr Aitken is the expert. There was nothing for me to do."

"Yet you insisted on being called if there was a recurrence? Very admirable. In fact, I was hoping the two of you could collaborate on a scientific paper about Pondicherry Spleen Fever."

"We'd be delighted!" the thrilled duo agreed.

"Splendid!" said Holmes, and clapped his hands.

"Uncle Sherlock!" called Jane.

Holmes winced for a fraction of a second, then said, "Ah! A glass of water for Lady Susannah. I'll get it while you discuss my proposition." He included the others, as their accounts would be valuable contributions.

He dashed out to the kitchen.

He was gone slightly longer than expected, and when he returned, stopped in the hallway, where he beckoned to the others to join him at the door of the study.

When they were all gathered around, he swiftly and silently pushed the door open.

Everyone could see a figure at the safe, fiddling with the lock with a pen knife, and using a stethoscope.

Lady Susannah, at the back of the group, dropped her affected posh accent, to gasp, "Lawks a'mighty! Alice! My long lost daughter!"

The confused Mr Aitken squeaked, "My laboratory assistant!"

As the local constable appeared at the French windows, Holmes ushered everyone into the study for his explanation.

"During Lady Susannah's confinements, attempts have been made to open her safe. This being the fifth and final occasion to crack the combination. When she dismissed the beauty of her roses, I suspected Lady Susannah was colour blind. The compartmentalised pill box proved it. Amongst the green pills, the Friday one was red. Only the doctor could have substituted it. Your assistant, Mr Aitken, is as knowledgeable about the properties of the Scarlet Death-By-Abdabs as you are. And she knew you could negate the effects. I swapped the pill, and congratulate Lady Susannah on her performance tonight. This afternoon's visit to the local pen knife shop revealed a recent customer had bought a cheap tourist souvenir - insisting on the Limited Edition's number 73, which looks like an EL monogram the other way up, to incriminate Teddy Loveday if it was found. That customer, your daughter, was pointed out to me by the pen knife monger as she passed with her fiance, you, Dr De Donnarivalle. Alice is recognisable from these family photographs. She knew the French windows are never locked, and my diversion when fetching Lady Susannah's glass of water allowed me to look through them to see the burglary in progress. But then your whistle had told her the coast was clear, hadn't it, doctor? I had arranged for the local constable to be similarly concealed. Oh, and the square - not round, Jane - indentations on the carpet showed that whoever was trying to open the safe needed to move the heavy chair from under the desk to stand on it in order to reach."

The next morning, Holmes and Jane paused at the front gate to admire the roses for one last time before they left.

"... And so, Jane," he was explaining, "Alice was trying to get that priceless unique Ancient Egyptian pen knife. It's her rightful inheritance, and she doesn't believe the curse. No one would ever know it was gone."

"Uncle Sherlock?"

"Don't call me that."

"There's one thing I don't understand."

Jane hurried back to Celia, who was standing in the doorway, dabbing her cheek.

Holmes watched the conversation, then Jane ran back.

"I wanted to know why she said she was from Abergavenny, not Abergenny. She said it's because she's learning to speak in English."

"And why was she so sad about us leaving?"

"She's made a Gwesty Pie, and hoped we'd stay for some. She said she plucked her owl specially."

"That, my dear Miss Marple, is one delight for which neither of us will ever really be ready."

And you can read about how Jane became Sherlock Holmes's apprentice in : _Dr Who And The Detectives_ \- graestu - AO3 - 19 October 2020.

And another of her solo cases in : _THE PATERNOSTER GANG! in The Adventure Of The Creepy Cyclist_ \- graestu - AO3 - 19 October 2020.


End file.
